The Four

English and Comparative Literature majors like myself had the exclusive option to rent a locker in the English hall. To the best of my knowledge, it was because we had so many novels and textbooks to carry, and God forbid my wealthy classmates broke one of their compact, designer backpacks' thin leather straps. Still, I took one up - it couldn't hurt, especially since I had long hours with work after school.

I pushed through the classroom door and nearly jumped out of my socks. Sam and Evan were standing outside the doorway, evidently waiting for me.

"How in the -" I started.

"Oh, Analeigh, thank God," Sam said huskily, coming up to me. "How are you?"

"Bewildered," I replied. "How did you know where I was?"

"Sam wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, after the cafeteria incident this morning," Evan answered, offering a weak smile and scratching the back of his head.

They didn't even know about the basketball court.

I rolled my eyes and started walking down the hall. They flanked either side of me.

"I'm fine. I don't plan on reading The Fed's synopsis."

"You don't want to know what people are saying?" Sam asked.

"No. Why should I?" I veered left and approached my locker. "I prefer to face my problems head-on rather than through a screen."

"Can't say we have no evidence of that," Evan agreed, leaning against the lockers next to mine as I swung it open.

Sam's hand shot out and held my forearm in a vice grip. "Oh my God."

"OW!" I smacked her hand in vain, as she'd stopped dead. "What is up with you?"

I followed her brown eyes to my locker door where, sitting pretty at eye-level, a round black chip with a silver painted number "4" clutched to the metal space.

Evan let out a low whistle.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed. "Someone broke into my locker!"

"Analeigh," Sam started, her voice lowered. "That's a poker chip from The Four."

"Excuse me?"

She reached out and took it between two fingers, peeled off the double-sided tape that had adhered it to my locker and held it like some ancient artifact between the three of us. "Remember how I said you had to be invited to visit them? This is it, Analeigh. This is their invite."

"Invite? For what?"

Evan stepped in. "So many people regularly challenge The Four to poker matches that they got fed up one day, and created this invite system."

"Mostly incompetent boys who think they're better than The Four," Sam interjected. "They never are."

Evan rolled his eyes and continued, "Basically, if they deem a challenger worthy of a match, they receive one of these poker chips, and a date and time are chosen. They decide the terms in their meeting room before the match begins."

I shook my head in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam flashed the chip in front of my face. "You have to go, Analeigh. They don't just give this to any student."

I huffed and plucked the chip from her fingers. "I don't think so." I shoved the chip into the depths of my backpack and zipped it adamantly, then began what I was there to do in the first place: gather my things and go.

Sam gaped at me. "You can't just ignore The Four! Do you know how rare it is to be summoned by them?"

I slammed my locker shut and faced her in amazement. "Summoned? What am I, a dog?"

Evan chuckled, "I don't think they've ever been rejected before."

"This isn't about rejection," I replied. "Look, after today, I want nothing more to do with The Four. I shouldn't have even confronted them in the first place. I've already brought way too much attention to myself because of them. No more." With that, I began to hike down the hallway.

"Analeigh!" Sam whined behind me. I heard Evan snicker and beckon her to follow him the opposite direction. She resisted, and he undoubtedly had to pull her away.

---

I couldn't tell you exactly how I ended up on the roof of the library. I was drunk on a sort of rage of emotions: exasperation, anger and fatigue among them. Before I even knew where my feet had taken me, I burst out of the stairwell and was engulfed by sunlight and a pleasant wind.

I marched to the center of the wide open space, cupped my mouth with my hands and threw back my head.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" I screamed to the heavens for a solid, invigorating five seconds. I took a huge, long breath, arms swinging at my sides. My hair blew around my shoulders as I stared out at the New York City skyline beyond the campus buildings before me.

"You insolent, worthless Four!" I yelled. "How dare y- you summon me like some dimwitted fangirl! You BREAK my phone, RUIN my first day, and you think I'll learn POKER for the HONOR of playing you? HA!" I laughed to myself and stomped my feet. "I'd rather lick a homeless man's foot than play your stupid game!"

I paused, nearly breathless from shouting, and returned to a speaking level as if actually talking to someone. "I hope you're bitten by an army of rabid street rats and get fat and ugly and your perfect, stupid hair recedes and grows out your stupid big noses."

"Then what?"

I froze and turned, hair flying loosely around me, to see the sandy-haired member of The Four, sitting alone on a bench against the wall of the building. He rose and began to walk towards me. I winced and turned back around, lips pursed, mind racing. The footsteps neared my side until I was enveloped in shade by his towering figure blocking the sun.

So much for laying low.

I squinted up at him, all but glowing in the backlight. He stood maybe a foot in front of me, hands in the pockets of his fitted grey pants. Unlike Travis earlier that day, he wasn't rigid, yet I felt no less intimidated by this confrontation

"What happens after my hair grows out of my nose?" He asked, his voice even and cool.

His eyes were a deep, rich blue, as calm as his composure. I stared up at him and feebly crossed my arms.

"I... I hadn't thought that far."

"Hm," he hummed. "Will you be happy?"

I frowned at him. "Are you trying to bully me, too?"

"Why would I do that?"

I tore my eyes away from his and tried in vain to focus elsewhere. "You're one of The Four, aren't you?"

"Yes."

I hesitated, unsure how to respond.

"I prefer to mind my own business," he said simply. Then, hands still deep in his pockets, he looked away, moved aside and walked past me.